


While sharing a bed

by I_Slasher



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Auror Ron Weasley, Awkward Flirting, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Gen, Light Character Bashing, M/M, Minor Violence, Platonic Romance, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension, nothing really happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Slasher/pseuds/I_Slasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharing a bed with Ron Weasley? No fucking way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While sharing a bed

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt [#8](http://ron-draco-fest.livejournal.com/16660.html?thread=170004#t170004) by [digthewriter](http://digthewriter.livejournal.com/). This fanfic was my entry for the [Ron/Draco Fest](http://ron-draco-fest.livejournal.com/) 2016\. :)
> 
>  **Beta** : [themightyflynn](http://themightyflynn.livejournal.com/)
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

The silence in the room was suddenly interrupted by a very disgusted voice, one which clearly wasn’t pouting. Nope.  
  
“You know what? None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you. It’s all your fault.”  
  
And the blunt reply was immediate: “My fault? My fault?! Who was the idiot who got caught, huh? Oh, yeah. You!”  
  
Draco glanced at Weasley and snorted in a way so un-Malfoy-like that his father would have a heart attack if he knew.  
  
“I don’t get caught, Weasel,” he replied haughtily, to hide his offence. “I simply lowered my guard.”  
  
“Yeah,” Ron laughed without humour, more tired than anything. “This happened because you couldn’t obey my order to stay exactly where you were while I went to investigate. Because of course, the perfect prince can’t follow orders from anyone who is below him, right?”  
  
“Don’t try to blame me, you arsehole! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE BLOODY TRAINED AUROR!”  
  
“THAT’S WHY YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO ME WITHOUT QUESTION!”  
  
Sitting there, they both panted in anger. Neither said anything for a couple of minutes, giving them both time to calm down. Draco really, really hated the situation they were in, and if he was honest with himself, maybe – just maybe – it was his fault.

.0.

It had started with the arrival of threatening notes to his office. The pieces of parchment had been clean: no malicious spells, no trace of magic, and the ink was as common as the paper. An Auror team, along with their new specialists, stated that the suspect left the notes personally or they had someone else – a crony – who had delivered them by hand, without using any magic. Draco hadn’t been willing to believe that the addition of a team of investigators to the Auror Corps would make any difference in the Ministry, but after experiencing first hand their meticulous methods – spells combined with Muggle procedures – he understood that the change was necessary.  
  
He knew that the addition of the investigators to the Corps was an effort by the Golden Trio. They had taken the idea from their Muggle counterparts, New Scotland Yard and, not without some effort, they had managed to convince the Wizengamot that change was needed.  
  
“If we’re putting in the effort to bring the wizarding world back to how it was pre-war so that our children, our future, learn and be proud of their culture, why not improve our methods of justice? Aurors are admirable by themselves, but we can’t do everything. We need help; specialists to help us tie up loose ends and gather solid evidence to imprison those who deserve to be judged, so we’re not relying only on Veritaserum.”  
  
With that speech, Potter managed to leave the Wizengamot speechless. And in the end, after many meetings, the trio achieved the approval to start looking, train and teach, the new team of Magical Crime Scene Officers; MCSO, for short.  
  
The investigation, led by Auror Weasley, had discovered that Pansy Parkinson, of all people, was his stalker for reasons still apparently unknown, but Draco knew better. The witch still blamed him for the ‘shame’ her family suffered when they discovered that the marriage contract Pansy always boasted of never existed.

.0.

  
Pansy’s parents had gone to Malfoy Manor on the morning of her twentieth birthday to begin the preparations for ‘the dream wedding of their daughter with the Malfoy Heir’ – only to be met with a very awkward silence.  
  
“Sorry, Mr. Parkinson,” Draco’s father had started when the two families got comfortable in the living room. “But here there must be an error. My son doesn’t have a marriage contract with your daughter, or anyone else.”  
  
“But that can’t be possible!” the man shouted with a complete lack of decorum. Draco could see his father’s jaw clenching, swallowing the urge to get him kicked out for offering him such disrespect. “Your son didn’t tell you, surely! Yes, yes, that must be it. Of course, that’s the youth of today, wanting to hide their love until the end; I can understand that, so there’s nothing to forgive.”  
  
His parents exchanged a look, a tiny look that would have gone unnoticed by anyone outside the family. Draco noticed, obviously.  
  
“Mr. Parkinson. I can assure you that Draco doesn’t have, and never will have, a marriage contract with anyone.” The soft voice of his mother was one of the most lethal weapons that Draco knew. One moment she was all happiness and condescension, and the next she was cold and deadly, like a silver dagger right in the heart.  
  
But his mother’s words were true. Unfortunate as were the decisions his father had made in the past, one thing they did have clear between them was that they would allow Draco as much freedom as he wanted before he was swallowed by the consequences of his actions. This had produced a little spoiled and arrogant Malfoy, who always got what he wanted.  
  
Draco had changed, though. Over time. After making his own bad decisions and learning from his mistakes, but he had changed. And was proud of it.  
  
But back to the problem of the alleged marriage contract: the issue had always been a no-no when it came to his parents. They, of course, had been promised to each other and eventually had gotten to know each other, and finally had fallen in love. His parents wanted him to have that, without the pressure of a magical contract. Hence, what Pansy says was absolutely and completely-  
  
“Bullshit! That’s complete bull—”  
  
“Pansy, language!”  
  
Draco wanted to laugh at the misfortune of Parkinson, but knowing that he would be reprimanded by his parents, hard, he chose to rub salt into the already open wound.  
  
“What my mother said is true, and I suggest you watch your tongue in front of her, Miss Parkinson: my mother deserves all the respect in the world. Now, if all you’ve come to my home with your family to do is accuse me falsely, I suggest you leave now.” His voice was hard, firm, as he had been taught to deal with people with no class or manners.  
  
“Watch yourself, bra-”  
  
“Careful, Parkinson,” came the interruption from his father, who was holding his cane too hard, restraining himself. “You’re in my home, as my son has rightly said, so you’re going to show us some respect stop saying nonsense now. My son will not marry your daughter unless he wants to.” The ‘ _but I doubt it_ ’ wasn’t said, but was clearly there. “There is no marriage contract between our children and never was, made by me or by my son – who couldn’t have done it because he was under age. So if that’s all, I kindly ask you to leave.”  
  
After his father’s declaration, the Parkinson family left without looking back.

.0.

Draco hadn’t understood Pansy’s delusions until Theo had reminded him by asking him a couple of years back if what she was saying was true: she and Draco were getting married after Hogwarts. The Malfoy heir had dismissed his words as foolishness, having more important things to worry about – like getting the Golden Trio in trouble.  
  
Now, however, it seemed logical that it had been Pansy threatening him. The notes had appeared a couple of months after that altercation and with each delivery; the harassment grew worse and worse. Draco wasn’t afraid of what the woman might do: he had lived with his crazy aunt Bellatrix and a megalomaniac Voldemort in his home; Parkinson didn’t compare.  
  
The problems began when he suffered a kidnapping attempt by portkey and a death threat – the _Diffindo_ would have almost decapitated him if not for his Seeker reflexes. So the always present Auror Corps had assigned him a guard.  
  
As if he can’t defend himself.

.0.

Draco was hungry.  
  
He had missed lunch with his mother at the Manor to accept the Weasel’s, I mean, _Auror_ Weasel’s call about a solid lead in the Parkinson case. He had been told that if all went well, they would have the witch in custody at the end of the day. And against all his instincts Slytherin, he had believed the jerk.  
  
What had been the result? He had walked into a trap with the idiot, had been kidnapped by a crazy witch who wanted to have his babies and been tied up the Muggle way to avoid suspicion (smart girl, he should give her credit).  
  
Weasley was in the same condition, if the sound of his stomach was any indication.  
  
“Can you please stop making that noise? It’s getting on my nerves. “  
  
“Oi! Not my fault I get hungry,” refuted the Auror with a frown. “And it’s not like I can do more than stay in this bed with you, Ferret.”  
  
Draco didn’t answer, choosing to look at the ceiling and count the cracks instead. They had been tied up for a few hours, or was it minutes or days; Draco couldn’t have known properly as the only light in the room was an old candle on a desk behind them. Typical. But he couldn’t help but agree with Weasley: wasn’t anyone’s fault but himself.  
  
He knew it was absurd to think of the “what if” but he couldn’t help it. He had too much time to think about everything that had happened.  
  
The evidence Weasley had found indicated that Parkinson had been found hiding in an abandoned warehouse in a Muggle port. Draco had been questioned, searched for evidence himself, found connections and eventually the Auror had decided to investigate while reinforcements arrived.  
  
Draco, who had been nearby, heard the plan and in a completely idiotic and childish act, followed the Auror. Obviously Weasley noticed someone following him and after yelling at him for being a pompous jerk who couldn’t help but show up where wasn’t wanted, he had decided it was safer for Malfoy if he stayed at his side rather than floating around alone.  
  
Unfortunately they didn’t imagine that Parkinson would be prepared: she ambushed them and hit them over their heads, knocking them unconscious. She had then tied them with thick ropes to the head of a bed. Such a Muggle method. But effective.  
  
A movement to his right brought him back to reality. Weasley moved, shifting the entire bed.  
  
“What are you doing? Feel like going to the toilet or something, Weasel?  
  
Ron paused for a moment before turning his head to the left to face the man beside him. “Shut up,” growled the Auror, and moved again.  
  
Draco did, for once heeding the authority figure by his side. Looking sideways at the man wasn’t comfortable, but when he understood what he was doing, couldn’t help grinning. The Auror, somehow, had managed to loosen one of the ropes on his wrists and was now taking off the other. Clever.  
  
“I must admit,” Weasley’s voice made him look again. “That Parkinson was smart to do everything without magic. The problem with her plan is that she doesn't know how to make strong ties without magic, and that, my dear ferret is our advantage.” To finish his sentence, he freed his left hand, hitting Draco with his elbow. “Oops, sorry.”  
  
Draco swallowed a curse as the Auror leaned against his chest, holding his weight just enough so as not to crush him, as he untied Draco’s wrists. It wasn’t an ideal position, not the most comfortable, to use to untie someone, but for some reason, he didn’t mind the closeness. And that scared him a little.  
  
_Well, shit._  
  
“All done,” Weasley’s voice sounded very close to Draco’s ear, his hot breath blowing against his hair, ruffling his skin. “Now all we have to do is catch your creepy future wife and get out of here”  
  
“Very funny, Weasel.”  
  
The Auror didn’t reply, but winked. _Fuck_.  
  
Parkinson was easy to find. The witch never expected they could escape so she had her back exposed – figuratively. Weasley disarmed her with a couple of amazing moves (“Muggle style hand to hand combat.. Harry is a tyrant in training, I swear!”), and when they both had recovered their wands, the Auror cast his Patronus and told his superior – Potty Potter – about their situation and where they were.  
  
They didn’t have to wait long. Weasley’s team came and after examining Draco for injuries, along with getting his testimony and the memories of the entire event for the case (the vials were sealed so that only the Head of MCSO, the Head Auror and an analysis expert specializing in memories could manage them) he could leave.  
  
But before doing so, he went to Weasley. He fixed a little the wrinkles of his robes and brushed his hair with his fingers until he realized what he was doing and lowered his hand quickly.  
  
“Well done, Weasel,” he congratulated him. “It seems that the Auror Corps isn’t as inept as before.”  
  
Ron didn’t respond, just a little frown at Draco’s words while looking for something. Apparently he found it, because he smiled and answered back; “Yeah, well. Everything could have been solved sooner if certain whiny ferret would have stayed home.”  
  
“Moron,” replied Draco, feeling his ears burn. He wasn’t blushing. No. Especially not because he had noticed how well the Auror’s robes fit Ron. Merlin, his father would have a stroke if he knew what Draco was thinking.  
  
But like some things in his life, Draco knew that despite how good the firm body of Auror Weasley had felt on top of him, it could not be. The last thing he heard was that the man before him was engaged to Granger – or something like that – so no, there was nothing there for him.  
  
Draco coughed to clear his throat and decided to cut his losses. “Good. If that’s all, Auror Weasley, I’ll take my leave. Thank you very much for your help.” With that, he turned to leave the perimeter that had been drawn by anti-apparition wards.  
  
He passed a couple of Aurors, and closed his eyes while trying to focus on the Manor and not on Weasley’s arse. Suddenly, he felt something warm touching his hand, so he opened his eyes and there, beside him, was a Patronus. A Jack Russell, to be exact.  
  
The dog opened its mouth and Weasley's voice reached his ears: “Hey, ferret. How about going for a drink this weekend? Just to verify that don’t suffer from post-traumatic stress, you know. Send me an owl with place and time. I’m free on Saturday if you say yes. But if you don’t want to go to a bar, we can go to dinner or something... whatever you want, really. Oh, my team is calling me, I’ll see you, okay? Bye!”  
  
The message ended and the Patronus disappeared after running two full turns around his legs. Draco smiled and Disapparated.  
  
The next morning, Draco almost spit out his tea while reading the front page of the Daily Prophet:  


  **‘HERMIONE GRANGER AND VIKTOR KRUM ENGAGED!’**

  
“Oh...” he muttered as he continued reading the article, smiling more and more until the end. Without wasting a minute, he prepared to go to his office, deciding to make a short stop in the MoM to visit certain Auror Weasley and maybe invite him for lunch.  
  
Why wait until the weekend, if he could make his move right now?

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-Posted on LiveJournal ([X](http://ron-draco-fest.livejournal.com/22130.html)). Thanks for read and don't forget to leave a comment. :)


End file.
